


Just Like Your Morty

by longlivethecitadel



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Anal Sex, Bareback Sex, Blood, Bondage, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Deepthroat, Drug Abuse, Fingering, Glory Hole, Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Painful Sex, Prostitution, Sexual Abuse, Sleep Molestation, Suicidal Thoughts, Unconscious Sex, Verbal Abuse, Vomit Mention, blowjob, drunk fuck, implied self harm, sort of anyway., suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longlivethecitadel/pseuds/longlivethecitadel
Summary: A Rick gets introduced to a sex shop with a glory hole that hosts an escort Morty on the other side. This Rick has nasty fantasies about his own Morty and exercises them on one he won't get in trouble for fucking. Things get worse from there when Rick starts looking towards his own Morty.Starts consensual but turns dubcon to noncon, as a warning.





	1. The First Mistake to a Slippery Slope

“S-so this is the place huh?”

“Oh yeah, I know you buddy, a-and not just because you’re me. Y-you, you’re gonna _love_ the little slut that’s in there.”

“What I can’t believe is that t-the Citadel just, they just let shit like this exist?”

“Y-you telling me y-you don’t believe the freaks up the chain ever stop by this place? Buddy, you haven’t been on the Citadel long have you?,” the brightly suited Rick let out a gruff laugh as he smacked his client on the back. Another Rick who he’d met a couple hours back while barhopping nearby and dragged him here. Drunk Ricks were always the easiest clients, the easiest targets. Emotionally weak, pathetic, and a little stupid. Not that this Rick would say it to this sucker’s face. “Get on in there already! Y-you’re on a timer, feed the machine if you need more of it, alright buddy? Ahhahaha!”

They were both laughing now, laughing until the client Rick was choking on his own spittle. He was coughing but still smiling, not that the other Rick was remotely concerned. If he was concerned about anything it’d be about the vomit he’d obviously be sending someone in to clean up later. Oh well! That’s why Janitor Mortys existed.  
Still laughing as he backed away and shot the other Rick a couple of finger guns and a wink, that drunk fucker finally opened the door to the stall after another chug from his flask.

Finally he was in, almost wondering if he was dreaming, or hallucinating at least. Rick looked around the compact stall, which boasted a fancy, soft, blue carpet-like material. There was a seat in front of him, and above the seat was a screen already set up playing some sort of alien porn. Clearly this place was set up with the expectations that Ricks would be through here, there were the exact sort of sex toys he loved using set up on the walls and in a bin in the corner. Fancier, nicer looking than the sort of places he was used to frequenting on alien planets or places equivalent to dirty truck stops.

He hadn’t believed it when that suited Rick told him about this place at the bar. However, it wasn’t the well-designed, attractive sex shop run by Ricks for Ricks that was surprising. It was the back room, and..

“H-hey there, babe, what you, ah, what are you doing over there huh? C-come on over here, grandpa, s-show me what you’re packing.”  
That.  
That was what Rick really couldn’t believe.

He gulped dryly as his eyes locked onto the Morty peeking through a hole in the stall wall big enough to show off his face. That was definitely a Morty. A Morty that was blatantly, sexually flirting with him. That Rick hadn’t been lying to him after all.

“H-hey little Morty, what’re you, what,” he was stumbling a bit, was it the alcohol or his heart pounding in his chest that made it so hard to speak? Maybe a little of both. The Morty giggled, seeming to play with his own curls. It made Rick weak.  
He slid a little closer, bending down to get a better look, “Y-you get paid to be here, baby, or you just, you just really like sucking dick?”

“Little of both,” the Morty slowly licked his sweet little lips, “B-but what I really like is having my grandpa Rick’s fat cock inside of me.” The little fucker stuck his tongue out. Pretty obvious he was eating this up. This had to be scripted, it was scripted right?

Still felt really weird to hear from his ‘grandson,’ hearing it in that voice nearly made Rick choke again. “Y-yeah? Y-you, you want your grandpa’s dick, Morty?” Shit, when did Rick get so hard? No dignity, no morals, about to fuck his grandson from another universe. This was fucked up, but guilt was for hungover sober Rick to deal with in the morning. “Y-you like the, you want, y-you want grandpa to fuck your tight little ass?”

“Y-yes, I do! O-oh Rick, please fuck me, I’m s-so hard I can’t wait any longer,” the Morty was practically panting, his tongue hanging out, the little slut. Rick was so focused on that mouth, watching the drool glisten and drip down from the tip of his tongue.

Rick inhaled so sharply he really did choke on his spit again this time. He wiped his own drool on his sleeve as he tried to regain his composure enough to speak again, “G-god, fuck, Morty. W-what’re you wearing, huh? Y-you, you look like a regular Morty? No extra limbs?”

The Morty seemed to know exactly what Rick meant, but still moved to show off his bare chest, letting his nipple pass the opening until his crotch was level with the hole. It really showed off that he wasn’t kidding, that was a hard Morty, and a young dick. Rick’s face heated up something awful. “I just have these tight panties, I can wear a yellow shirt if y-you want me to while you fuck me, Rick. I can be whatever you need me to be.”

“P-put on the shirt, Morty,” Rick swallowed again, distracted by that underwear. It was lacy and blue, matching the rest of this place. But it really was tight against that Morty, holding onto his skin and showing off every detail of the erection that it just barely contained. Rick didn’t even know how badly he wanted to see his grandson in flowery, childish panties until now. This was sick, and even sicker that he wanted this Morty to look like his own just so he could pretend he was fucking his real grandson.

The Morty complied and lowered himself again so Rick could watch him put the shirt on. “G-grandpa Rick, are you going to touch me?” The Morty seemed to shift to a more innocent tone, eyes big when he laid his face in the opening again. God, he really knew how to play this Rick.

Unbuttoning his pants quickly with one hand, using his other to stroke the Morty’s cheek gently, his imagination melded with the situation before him. “M-Morty..” He moaned quietly as he began slowly jacking himself off. “Let grandpa, he, he’s gonna, grandpa’s gonna make you feel good, alright Morty?”

Seeing Rick touch himself, the Morty opened his small mouth and let his tongue hang again, an invite for him to come right in. “W-what about you, Rick? You want m-me to m-make myself useful? I can be a g-good boy for you, Rick.”

“Y-yeah?” Rick scooted a little closer, that mouth both figuratively and literally sucking him in, and he let it. He let that Morty wrap his lips around his dick and take the head in. Suckling, it was like he was hungry for more, tongue circling and lapping at the head. “O-oh fuck, that’s, god, that’s a good boy, Morty..” Rick groaned, that mouth so wet, so good.

The Morty moaned in response to the encouragement, the vibrations from those lips tightly squeezing onto his dick, making him twitch. “Oh yeah, that’s it.. Use that wet little tongue of yours, you slut,” Rick commanded, pressing right up against the wall all too quickly. He grabbed onto the carefully placed bars on either side of him, obviously there with the anticipation that a Rick would be here thrusting his dick through the wall.

And he did, he thrust in too fast and hard for the Morty, thinking about face fucking his own Morty, hearing him gag and choke for a hot second on the other side of the wall. He thought about his Morty, sweet and innocent, dick down his throat, gagging.. tears at the corners of his eyes. God. “D-don’t you fucking stop, don’t you stop, M-m-morty, keep sucking.”

“S-sorry Rick! Your dick i-is just so big, I’m not used t-to having anything like it in my mouth,” again the Morty panted, and Rick knew these words were just to work him up. He didn’t really believe this Morty only sucked on his dick and no one else’s.  
But god was it working anyway.

The Morty was already back to work, stroking what he could of his ‘grandpa’s’ dick while sucking him off. It felt like the Morty knew just where to place his tongue, and like he was licking up all the precum that oozed from the tip.   
He’d have something else for him soon if he kept that up.

“Y-yeah Morty.. fuck. C-come on, baby, this dick isn’t too big for you, you’re, you’re doing so good, just let it slide into your throat,” Rick was desperate, using the bars he held onto to help him thrust frantically into the hole. The kid’s hand was keeping him from choking, which was quickly becoming frustrating. It wasn’t enough.  
Rick unraveled so fast as lust overtook him. If this wall wasn’t in the way he would have this Morty’s hair in his hands and would be holding his head down on his dick.  
But he couldn’t, and his exasperation showed in his cracking voice, “M-morty god dammit! W-when will you, c-can’t you do anything right? C-choke on my fucking dick, you bitch!”

The Morty blinked, but really only wanted to please, and against his better judgement, dropped the hand that created the barrier between his throat and this Rick’s drunken lack of control.   
About what he expected happened as Rick, with only the wall restraining him, shoved his dick down his throat. It was a tight fit, Morty was still somewhat small, and the walls of his throat weren’t prepared for the speed this Rick was assaulting them.

“O-o-oohh fffuck,” Rick moaned, “C-choke on my dick Morty, c-c-choke on it, bitch.” His cock twitched listening to the Morty gag around him, feeling the kid retch, every muscle in his throat moving and massaging Rick’s dick. Drool ran down the length and dripped off his balls and it made lightning shoot through Rick’s body at the idea of taking advantage of his Morty like this. At the idea of using him and cumming down his throat.

The pleasure was fleeting, as the Morty on the other side of the wall pulled back, trying not to throw up. The kid had to catch his breath, and was coughing up spit stuck in his throat. That yellow shirt was a mess.  
“R-r-rick, it’s t-too much, too fast. I c-can’t, catch my breath. P-please.”

Rick used the slick drool on his dick to stroke himself again, moaning under his breath as the Morty begged. He wanted his Morty to beg to him like that. Beg on his little knees, crying for his Rick. The thought kept him rock hard.  
“G-give me your, lemme see your ass, Morty. I want to see those panties again, s-show grandpa your sweet little ass.”

Relieved, the Morty happily obliged and stuck his bum up to the hole, his balls sitting on the edge of the wall almost comfortably. Rick was taking another swig of alcohol from his flask and swiping a card on the machine at the wall. He didn’t want to get interrupted in the middle of this just because his time ran out, that would be fucked up.  
Well, not as fucked up as what he was doing. But again, guilt later, sweet pleasure now.

Patiently, the Morty waited, though unsure with the sudden wait time, he still asked anyway, “H-hey Rick s-should I take off my panties?”

“N-no Morty, y-you just, you keep those pretty little things on,” Rick quickly set the flask down on the seat just to say that, alcohol and spit rolling down his chin. His lab coat came off and dropped almost as quickly as Rick dropped to his knees.  
He leaned in close, breath coming out against the Morty’s cheeks and making him wiggle his ass a bit with a small moan.

“Y-yes Rick.”

Eagerly, Rick only briefly ran his finger from the top of those panties down to his balls, then hooked a finger around the lace and held the panties to the side. Rick licked his lips looking at that puckered little ass, so surprisingly clean, so small. He wanted his throbbing dick in there immediately.  
But not yet.  
First he shoved a finger right in, pushing despite the yelp from the Morty and the tightening muscles making it difficult. In fact, he barely waited before trying to get a second finger in. Trying, and succeeding, the Morty’s asshole wasn’t super tight and seemed to have some give to it. This wasn’t the first time he’d been fucked.

It was still a bit surprising anyway, with the Rick diving in so quickly and so forcefully without any lube. It hurt a bit, but it was just fingers, so the Morty shook his head through a few whimpers and tried to relax. The Rick was parting his fingers and stretching his unprepared hole, roughly shoving them in to the knuckle. “R-rick, ohhh..” he tried to moan encouragingly, despite the protest from his body, despite the held back whines in his throat when Rick curled his fingers and dug them in.

“D-don’t worry, Morty, grandpa’s gonna f-fuck you real, real good,” his voice was almost a whisper, like he was trying to soothe this Morty’s whimpers.  
Even though those noises only fueled his lust. Rick’s fingers were out and it was sweet relief to the Morty. This Rick was so rough with little care for his wellbeing. He was almost ready for this client to be finished with him as quickly as possible.

Rick stood again, using one of the bars to pull himself up. Couldn’t let go of those panties though, needed them out of the way. He lined up the head of his dick with Morty’s hole, shrugging and telling himself ‘good enough’ to the little bit of slickness left from the Morty’s mouth.  
But it wasn’t good enough.

He pushed and pressed against that opening, even spitting on himself a bit to lube up again. By the time the Morty realized what this Rick was doing, lubing with spit and nothing else, it was too late. Rick had pushed his way in, and without anything to make the process smoother, pangs of pain went up the Morty’s spine.  
Every inch in was another loud cry from the kid, “Lube, lube lube lube, l-l-lube, Rick!! R-Rick please!”

It was almost like Rick wasn’t listening at all as he pulled back, and shoved back in again with full force, causing the Morty to nearly scream.   
He heard though. It was impossible for him not to, he heard Morty plead.  
No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear his grandson beg him to stop, it was that he wanted to make him do it _more_.

He wanted to make him scream, he wanted him to cry because his grandpa’s dick was too big, and it hurt too much. It was sick.  
It was sick for him to take advantage of this Morty, who gave Rick the benefit of the doubt only to be paralyzed by the pain of his ass stretching and twitching as it accommodated the unwanted intruder pounding into him so hard his legs were shaking.

Morty wouldn’t even mind! He wouldn’t even mind being fucked so roughly, if only there were lube! He wanted to pull anyway but his arms were shaking and weak, and instead feebly hit against the wall.  
“P-please, please, please,” his begging slowly broke into sobs as it seemed like the Rick had no intention of stopping.

“O-oh yeah, M-m-morty, such a g-g-g-good boy,” Rick groaned, feeling himself grow so close. It was the sobbing that finally did it, that sent Rick over the edge. In one final movement, he pulled back one last time and dived right back in as the orgasm rushed over his entire body. He could feel it from is head right down to his toes, legs trembling with the intense pleasure that came with filling his grandson to the brim. His cock quivered with every drop that shot out, shivering with the idea of leaving this Morty here with all of that cum in him like the cheap whore he literally was.

When the high of the orgasm faded, he finally pulled out and slumped against the wall, grabbing for his coat. He put it on as he took another drink from the flask. That was.. good. Too good.  
Rick was already feeling sick from what he just did, and drank every last drop of alcohol left.

The Morty, just happy to have it over with, blinked away the tears stinging his eyes. He slammed his fist against the wall and quickly moved to curl up in the corner. “F-fuck you, asshole!” he hissed with intense venom.

Rick only stared blankly at the door. He had no response or excuse for what he did. There was still a bit of time left, but it didn’t matter. He was out of there quickly after his pants were back on. Rick was satisfied, despite leaving feeling sick.  
When he left, both of them were hoping he wouldn’t do this to his actual Morty.


	2. The Second Mistake Feeds the Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk again, Rick keeps sliding down a slope he never wanted to let himself fall into. Now that he's had a taste of Morty, he wants more, and visits his grandson at night while he sleeps.
> 
> Warning: This is completely 100% non-consensual with chapters past this intending on getting worse from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting for now, likely going to update again later with a more readable/less typoed version (hopefully there aren't too many, cheers!)

Morty always looked so innocent when he slept.  
The way he curled around his pillow, the way he clung to it like he was just begging for someone to hold. His quiet snores that indicated he was alive and not just as dead as his still sleeping body looked. The drool that always seemed to pool under him, so unaware of everything outside the dreams in his head. How he always slept in nothing but his underwear and showed off so much of his young body.

Rick tried to keep his breath steady as he watched his grandson sleep. This wasn’t the first time he had been here in his room, in the dark, in the dead of night. Just.. watching.  
Rick had a problem, and he knew it.  
But he couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop thinking about that Morty he fucked in that sex shop. He couldn’t stop his thoughts running with the desire to do to his Morty what he did to that one.

It was even harder to control his impulsive desires when he was drunk or drugged. He drank to numb the guilt and try so desperately to quell the thoughts. Why wasn’t it working? His self control was falling to pieces, which was so evident by how close he was to Morty this time. Evident by how his hand rubbed his own aching crotch through his pants.

When he was sober, he constantly thought about what Beth would think. How fast would he be out of here if she found out what Rick was doing? And he wouldn’t blame her, the thoughts that haunted his mind alone made him want to kill himself on a daily basis. How could he do this to Morty? Did he even really care? He wasn’t sure.  
But he wasn’t sober, and his hand was hovering over Morty, breath becoming more ragged as he thought about all the things he wanted to do to his grandson.

Everyone was asleep, no one would know. And even if they came in, it’s not like they would question Rick if he came up with some excuse for being in Morty’s room, or if he told them he had come to take Morty on an adventure.  
No one would know.. if he just…

Rick inhaled and held his breath as his fingers grazed over Morty’s thighs. Morty didn’t seem to notice, still snoring quietly. Rick thought about drugging him, just in case. Drug him, knock him out cold, and you can touch him all you want. But even the alcohol couldn’t stop him from feeling sick over that thought.  
Or maybe he just didn’t want to bother, not when Morty was letting him run his fingers down his stomach and over his crotch.

The only real response from the kid was a bit of soft, sleepy mumbling and slight shifting. This made Rick freeze, eyes locked on Morty to see if he was going to wake up. Not yet, it seemed.

Rick’s fingers dared to squeeze onto the sides of Morty’s dick and slowly, carefully moved up and down the length through the cloth of his briefs. This simple action alone had Rick’s heart pounding, especially as Morty naturally hardened to the stimulation. More soft noises came in response, and Rick was high on the adrenaline of the mere idea that he shouldn’t be doing this. Morty could wake up at any moment, and the growing hardon in his own pants only made him want to touch him more.

It was difficult to really reach everything he wanted to with the way Morty was laid on his side with his pillow still held to his chest. His legs curled up just enough to make access difficult, and with him facing away from Rick, visibility wasn’t the easiest. Still, better Morty not wake up staring right into his grandpa’s crotch. Always that chance that Rick could step into the darkness of the room and pretend he was never here. Morty couldn’t prove it was him, he could blame it on Jerry and Beth would believe him.

Ha! Jerry. Yes, he would be such an easy target for blame.  
The realization made Rick bolder, his hand diving right into Morty’s briefs and finding a fumbling grip on his grandson’s dick. It wasn’t the easiest position, but he wasn’t about to move Morty around. Instead, it was easier to pull the kid’s semi-soft dick from between his legs and move the head to rest against the band of Morty’s underwear. A little easier to jerk his length if even only in a more pulling motion, fingertips pressing onto the base of the dick and sliding up to the tip.

Morty really seemed to harden up now, making his briefs start to bulge. The increased pressure also made Morty stir, eyes cracking open as he questioned, “J-jessica..?”

His legs started to shift as he moved to roll over, still stuck in a dreamy state. Something felt nice, strange but nice. There was a warm pressure in the lower half of his body that he couldn’t quite place.

Then suddenly there was a firm hand on his shoulder keeping him from rolling over. Though dazed, Morty was starting to process that someone was touching him.   
And then his eyes suddenly shot open. Someone, was touching his crotch. Stuck between distressed confusion and natural sexual excitement, Morty wasn’t sure whether to say something. Words were caught in his throat that came out in soft squeaky moans.  
He had.. never really been touched like this before. Was he dreaming?

Morty tried to turn his head to find out who was touching him only to find the hand moving from his shoulder to his face, pressing his cheek firmly down into the bed sheets.   
Anxiety immediately filled his chest now.

Who was touching him? Why wasn’t he allowed to move? His mind cycled through everyone who could even possibly be in his house but every single person was someone in his family and brought a sick feeling into the pit of his stomach.  
What was somewhat warm and pleasurable touches now felt cold and painful as Morty’s desire to be touched dropped quickly.

“N-no, s-s-stop!” he decided to squeak out, immediately pushing back against the body that was suddenly on the bed with him and curling with his body, “I-I-I, I don’t, I don’t..” He was going to protest that he didn’t want this, but a hand was around his mouth now, muffling him.

He could bite it.. he could bite that hand, but he didn’t. Morty found himself frozen in place more than anything, terrified at the thought that this could be Rick, or his dad, or.. or..

A quiet ‘shh’ was breathed into Morty’s ear, causing the smell of alcohol to waft over Morty’s senses. Rick attempted to keep his identity a secret by speaking not even a single word, but Morty knew immediately from the scent alone. Realization came in waves of cold nausea through his entire body, sweat starting to dampen his skin.

His grandpa was touching him. His grandpa had his hand on his dick, now wrapped around in a tight grip, and was jerking him off. He didn’t want to have this boner, but it wasn’t going down either. It’s not like he wanted the boner that he could feel pressing between the cheeks of his ass either. Not that it mattered what he wanted, as Rick started to grind his hardon up against Morty’s ass.

Overwhelmed with negative feelings, Morty tried to swing his arm around and ineffectively hit Rick. His shoves were too weak and only made the man put more of his weight on Morty, making it difficult to move at all.

Begging for mercy through muffled whimpers seemed to be just as useless, and only made things worse as Rick became more rough in his strokes. Morty frantically attempted to grab onto Rick’s wrist and tugged and tugged, only to be ignored, grip tightening around his length and becoming nothing but painful.

This couldn’t be his grandpa. It couldn’t be. Rick was horrible sometimes but never like this. Morty’s anxiety turned into denial, his struggle turning into limp defeat. His real grandpa would never touch him like this, it couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. And fighting it any of it at all felt hopeless. Fighting Rick was always hopeless, he should have known.

Resolving to give up rather than fight it, tears streamed down his face and ran over the hand covering his mouth. This seemed to elicit a quiet groan from Rick and he sunk his teeth into the bare skin of Morty’s shoulder. The pain made his grandson sob out audibly but he didn’t really move, just squeeze his eyes shut.

Rick know Morty cried pretty easily but didn’t expect tears so soon. He didn’t even have his dick in him yet, that’s when he really expected to make him cry.   
Just as well, Rick knew he couldn’t get away with pounding Morty, not here, not in the bed. The bed would make far too much noise and _someone_ would definitely hear, especially if he went too hard and knocked the bed against the wall.

Rick had other ideas of what he wanted to do anyway that would be much quieter.

First of all, he had to make sure Morty wouldn’t squeal too much. Always such a noisy fucker. Rick moved his hand from Morty’s mouth to his nose, pinching it closed. Morty didn’t understand at first until his grandpa was grabbing onto the pillow he had been clinging to and shoved as much as would fit into his mouth when Morty had to gasp for air just to breath.

It tasted like his own sweat and drool as it was forcefully pushed between his teeth and touched the back of his throat. It was only when Morty gagged that Rick stopped. Breathing wasn’t going to be easy while trying to sniffle back the snot build up from crying so hard. He’d rather Rick just tell him to be quiet than be stuck with his jaw straining from the pressure of the pillow. He would be quiet, he swear he would if it would just _stop_.

With Morty’s noises muffled, Rick’s fingers circled his grandson’s bare nipples. Exciting how they stiffened under his touch. He pinched them both and twisted far too hard, nearly causing his Morty to scream into the pillow. Morty’s back arched away and he reflexively tried to turn out of Rick’s grip.  
A mistake, again, as Rick now yanked on his nipples, pulling outwards as far as the skin would stretch. More sobs from Morty, never having felt pain like this before, he didn’t know such a small part of his body could hurt so badly.

In his head, Morty was screaming in agony, but out loud he remained quiet save for his sniffles and the occasional cough to keep the pillow from going too far down his throat.  
Rick though..   
It was disgusting how turned on he was by making Morty give in so easily. To dominate him and really show him who’s the fucking boss. Rick was going to make Morty worship him like a god, his tears were like a sweet, salty offering to Rick’s self-entitled ego.

Rick’s hand slid down Morty’s side and into his briefs again. This time however, his palm moved over Morty’s bony ass, stopping only to admire just how perfectly it fit in his hand. So small, such a young, innocent, easy to take advantage of boy. Such a good boy.  
Rick’s finger felt around until it found his Morty’s asshole. He only circled it briefly before pushing in. It didn’t have as much give as that whore Morty he fucked before, a tighter fit, knowing that this was the first time fingers were ever put inside of his Morty.. and he was the one to do it.  
It was satisfying. It was like claiming ownership. This was _his_ Morty and nothing in the universe was going to change that.

Morty practically jumped when Rick forced the finger deeper. It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt. Morty always thought about being fucked, at least in the occasional fantasy, but he never knew it would hurt so badly. He was scared, and only frightened further when Rick was trying to push in a second one.  
Shaking his head, Morty grasped at the sheets and tried to pull himself away from Rick. Which, like the rest of his attempts, turned out to be a horrible mistake.

Rick grabbed ahold of Morty by the chest and pulled him back against his body, second finger going in and pushing and pushing with no wait at all. It hurt it hurt it hurt, Morty repeatedly screamed inside his own head, but was far too terrified to make any real sounds.   
He could feel Rick’s breath heavy on his neck and the fingers inside of him curling to stroke something inside of him as they pulled back out, then pushed right back in.

Rick could feel Morty’s ass tightening around his fingers, making it more and more difficult to move. Morty was going to let him fuck him one way or another, and Rick didn’t care if he had to force his fingers in to the knuckles, he didn’t care that it made Morty shake and writhe and sob in pain.  
His hand wrapped around his grandson’s cock again and stroked in time with the movement of the fingers inside of Morty.

“Y-y-you’re going to cum for me, grandpa’s gonna take care of you and make you cum, Morty,” Rick didn’t care if he exposed himself for who he really was, he’d long resolved that no one believe Morty if he bitched to his family. He laughed drunkenly into Morty’s ear, who cringed away from his grandpa in terror.

How could Morty cum if he was in so much pain? Jacking off usually felt good, but this didn’t feel good, it made his insides churn and overloaded his senses. It felt like Rick’s fingers were prodding something deep inside of him that was building pressure. Was Morty going to explode? Was Rick going to tear him apart from the inside out? Morty expected it at this point.

“That’s it, that’s it, c-c-come on, baby,” Rick’s breathing quickened with the pace he was touching Morty. He knew exactly what he was doing, right down to how much he was hurting his grandson. He could feel it in how the kid’s entire body trembled.

Morty, when he thought he couldn’t possibly take it anymore, buried his face in the pillow, clinging to it like it was the only thing left to protect him. And then he came.  
It was unsatisfying, almost like there was no pleasure to it, only a lot of cum that dribbled from his dick and stained his sheets along with the cold sweat. He felt exhausted like his body had had all of the energy sucked out of him and put into that load of sticky mess covering his grandpa’s hand.

It was the worst orgasm he’d ever had. And he felt like he might throw up, Rick had been right, as always. No matter how much Morty thought it was impossible, no matter how much he had never wanted someone he had so much of his trust in to touch him like this. He couldn’t stop shaking, violently, starting to feel numb in his mind despite the painful anxiety taking over his body.

Morty stayed silent. Rick whispered more ‘good boy’s into his ear and ‘I told you you’d cum for grandpa’ into Morty’s ear.

And then every bit of touch was removed from Morty. No fingers, leaving him feeling empty, cold, used, but wanting. Rick wasn’t on the bed anymore keeping the sweat from making Morty feel completely freezing.

“I-if you d-dare tell anyone what happened,” Rick said in a quiet, yet menacing tone, “You know what, d-don’t even bother. They won’t believe you. No one will ever believe you, Morty. You’ll keep your mouth shut and we’ll keep having our adventures and tomorrow will be just like every other day, you got that, Morty?”

Too petrified to even respond, Morty took in every word and felt more hollow than he ever had in his entire life.  
Rick didn’t seem to care if he got a response. He slipped out of the room silently sans the quiet click of the door closing, leaving Morty to stew in his own thoughts and mess.

-

Morty hadn’t slept a wink, still in complete and numb shock even when morning came. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the shower now but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t feel clean.

It must have been a while, because Summer was banging on the bathroom door, causing Morty to jump and nearly slip and fall. “Morty! Hurry the fuck up in there, you’re not the only one who has to get ready for the day, you know!” she was clearly agitated, but it took Morty a minute to even process it.

“Y-yeah okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” Morty tried to sound normal. Did he sound normal?

Summer might have responded again, but Morty didn’t quite hear. Everything was going into his ear like every sound was behind five walls. He felt like he might float out of his own body, and drying himself off after the shower was so strange. It was like his body wasn’t his, he couldn’t even feel the towel against his skin, could barely move his arms the way he wanted to.

Eventually Morty said fuck it and dressed, hair still dripping wet. It didn’t really matter, he was dry enough. He just wanted to get out of the house as quickly as he could before Rick tried to take him through space. Morty just wanted to go to school today.

He rushed out of the bathroom and downstairs, ignoring Summer’s “Finally!” as he passed by. Morty nearly tripped down the stairs, struggling to properly get his legs to function the way they were supposed it. He was headed for the kitchen to find his parents when he froze in the doorway, seeing Rick talking to his mom about.. he wasn’t sure what. He couldn’t focus.

Seeing Rick now, his demeanor seemed so different. That smile on his face as he talked to Beth didn’t read ‘rapist.’ His posture seemed open and friendly, if not a bit hungover and sick, maybe a little depressed but that was always Rick.  
Maybe.. maybe Morty really had dreamed it all up.   
Or maybe that wasn’t really his Rick last night violating him.

Denial and numbness ate away at his mind. He was frozen, unable to move from staring at the way Rick spoke to his mom like nothing happened.

Only when Rick looked at him was he able to move, and Morty bolted. He ran without hesitation right out the front door. He would wait for mom and dad to come out and drive him, or he’d walk to school if he had to. Anything to avoid Rick right now.

Rick.. he didn’t follow.  
He stared after Morty. But didn’t move.

“Was that Morty? What was that about?” Beth questioned, oblivious to everything. Oblivious to the deep frown on Rick’s face.

Rick waved a hand like he was waving the problem away as he turned toward the garage. “W-who knows? Teenagers, right? L-look sweetie I have shit to do, so I don’t have time to talk today. Maybe Morty’s upset because he knows we can’t adventure today, w-w-who knows with that kid.”

“Oh, alright dad,” Beth seemed more disappointed in Rick’s quick escape into the garage than she did over her son’s disappearance. Just when the morning was starting to seem nice.. but, she shrugged it off quickly, knowing this was about as typical as a usual day to her.

It wasn’t a usual day. It was going to be, up until he fucked up last night.  
Sober Rick knew what he had done. He locked the garage door behind him and slumped to the floor, legs sprawled, head in his hands. Fuck fuck fuck. Why did he do that? Why did he hurt his own Morty like that? Why couldn’t he just watch him like he usually did, why did he have to touch him?  
Sober Rick was battling a monster, and the monster was himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i never really felt like a lot of fics i delved into really went extensively into noncon, like it always had to be dubcon in some way. so this entire chaptered series is a bit self-indulgent mixed with some personal experience/trauma.  
> i hope some of you find this trip interesting at least! 
> 
> as always, feel free to comment/leave feedback or requests for this duo


	3. The Third Mistake is a Loss of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finds himself falling apart, losing against his desires to have his Morty in every sense. Running out of ways to cope with the thoughts tearing him apart, Rick knocks out his Morty and has his way with him. 
> 
> Warning: This is still 100% non-consensual, Morty is completely unconscious during this encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting for now, will update later with slight edits! I love any feedback on what I'm writing or what you guys might enjoy see happen with these two! I didn't expect so many people to actually be interested in following this duo, so I hope you all are finding the additions satisfying.  
> thanks for reading!

It had been weeks since they spoke.   
They were both playing a game of avoidance, stepping around each other, avoiding speaking, avoiding even looking at each other. Morty was afraid to be alone in that ship with Rick. Afraid of what he could do to him in there, scared of where he could take him without Morty having any remote sense of control over the situation. They could end up alone on some desolate planet and Rick could.. touch him.. again.

Rick was just as afraid of being alone with his grandson. He rarely came out of the garage unless he knew Morty was at school. If Rick had somewhere off-planet to go, he went alone. Occasionally they caught each other in the same room with tension so thick it was suffocating.  
Their interactions were always brief, a moment of locked eyes, terror shooting through Morty’s body, Rick holding his breath, unmoving, stiff.   
Morty always left first, head down, moving quickly. 

If anyone else in the family noticed something was wrong, they didn’t point it out. They said nothing, moving about their days as usual while Morty spoke less, barely ate.  
In a way, Morty was afraid Rick was right that night. Those words repeatedly rang in his head, ‘no one will believe you, no one will believe you, no one will believe you.’ No one even cared or noticed that anything was different, that Morty was constantly screaming beneath his skin. Why would they believe him or care if he said anything about what Rick did to him? 

So he stayed silent.

Loneliness was consuming Rick, and he knew he deserved it. His behavior became reckless, finding the most dangerous realities to travel to, taking the space ship car into planets at a nosedive and only pulling up at the last second, provoking and fighting entire armies of alien bastards with nothing but a pair of sharp knives. Maybe if he slipped up and died somewhere, he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his actions or face Morty ever again.

Unfortunately his death wishes weren’t his saving grace.  
Rick still found himself frequenting bars. His brain was still overwhelmed with thoughts of Morty, wanting to bring him with, missing him, missing watching him, missing touching him. He tried to drown the thoughts with alcohol and drugs of varying intensities. Sought out various people for empty, meaningless one night stands that didn’t seem to satisfy him like they used to. 

He went from fucking strangers, to imagining strangers as his grandson in bed, to finding himself right back at that sex shop on the Citadel.  
They weren’t happy to see him.  
As it turns out, their Escort Morty wasn’t silent about what Rick had done, but he was still a paying customer, and with enough Schmeckles on the table, they let him fuck their Morty again. 

The third time he returned, they wouldn’t even let him in the door. Rick had been so fucked up last time he couldn’t remember being there a second time. What had he done?  
Rick wanted to push it, already drunk, angry and barely standing, he demanded answers. His persistent indignation faded quickly when the colorfully suited Rick that seemed to run the place had a gun pointed at him and was making threats to report him to one of the Guard Ricks.

Giving up, he spent the rest of that night drinking at the bar next door until he passed out on top of one of their booths and was thrown out into the street with his clothes soaked in his own vomit.

His Morty back at home started waking up and finding marks on his body as the weeks went by. He didn’t know why, and if he tried to put the most likely reason to it, Morty would feel his whole body go numb again.  
But if Rick was touching him again.. why didn’t Morty remember anything? 

Morty wasn’t even sure he had seen Rick in days at this point. He was starting to become too afraid to sleep.

He didn’t know at first if he should hide the marks that were left until those words repeated in his head, ‘don’t you dare tell anyone.’ Suddenly Morty decided weather be damned, it was time to start wearing a scarf to hide the strange painful bruises and hickeys on his neck.  
It was too hot out. He was sweaty and shaking, knowing the scarf drew more looks than the marks might have in school, but now he was too afraid to take it off. 

Morty wasn’t sure what he would say if anyone asked, he wondered what they would say if he told them his grandfather was leaving those marks.  
Maybe he could play it off like he had a secret girlfriend, laugh it off and no one would worry or ask too many questions. 

Why couldn’t things just go back to normal?

 

* * *

 

Unable to sleep properly anymore, Morty had been lying awake in bed the night he finally heard it. Footsteps outside his door. They seemed to wait there a long time, like they were uncertain. Long enough that Morty almost thought he had just hallucinated the sounds.

He hadn’t, of course. And was certain of this fact when the door handle to his room turned, ending in a click as the door creaked open. This had to confirm Morty’s suspicions. His grandpa was coming in at night and.. Oh god, Morty didn’t want to be awake right now.

Fearfully, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he was asleep as footsteps drew near his bed. Morty really hoped he didn’t look _too_ fake. In contrast to his held breath, he could hear the figure’s labored breathing above him. It was obvious Rick was drunk with how noisy his breathing was.

‘Please don’t touch me please don’t touch me,’ Morty pleaded to Rick in his head as if it would make any sort of difference.  
No touch came. Not right away anyway. 

There was some mechanical clinking noises and what sounded like liquid sloshing around. What was happening? What did Rick have and what was it going to do to him?  
Morbid curiosity overtook him, Morty couldn’t help cracking his eyes open and slowly blinking them until they adjusted to the darkness of the room. He was absolutely certain that was Rick standing over him now. 

The old man didn’t seem to notice just yet that Morty was looking right at him, trying to eye what was in his hands. It was clearly some kind of device but the uncertainty of just what it was was nerve racking to Morty, and it had him beginning to tremble, clinging tightly to his sheets.

The next thing he knew, Rick seemed to be pressing the device to his neck and with a click, Morty’s neck was suddenly pierced by a quick, sharp needle that seemed to be pumping something into him. And he screamed.  
It was painful and frightening and he had no idea what Rick had just injected into him but Rick was quick to slam his palm over Morty’s mouth. 

“Shit,” Rick hissed under his breath, clearly caught by surprise. Morty didn’t usually wake up, he wasn’t usually prone to making any noise, it just _happened_ with no struggle every other night. Had Morty caught on to him? Was his scream going to be the end of it all?

Rick held his breath to listen for anyone as Morty attempted to grab at the machine, then his own neck, then Rick’s hands until he became weaker and weaker, and fell completely silent as the serum in his system put him right back to sleep. Morty should be knocked out cold. The real question was if Morty’s noises had woke anyone else.

“Morty, go to _sleep ,_ ” a clearly half asleep Summer called from down the hall in her own bed, but no one else seemed to get up or come to Morty’s room.

Just to make sure of course, Rick stayed completely silent, still holding his hand over Morty’s mouth as he tucked away the device into his coat. He waited there a bit at least, just watching Morty breathe, his chest slowly moving up.. then down. Peaceful.  
That’s what the serum was for after all, knock Morty out, mess with his body a little, the kid wouldn’t remember and Rick could pretend he was absolving himself from any sort of guilt. If no one knew, then he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Right? 

The idea came to him the first time he touched his grandson, but at the time he’d opted not do it. It didn’t seem right. Yet.. the more he dwelled on the idea, and the less access Rick had to any other outlets, and the lonelier, drunker he grew.. the more the idea had came up in his thoughts until finally Rick’s drugged-filled veins convinced him it was a brilliant idea.

Feeling safe enough to leave, Rick scooped the unconscious Morty up into his arms and moved through the house with careful steps. Not careful enough to bother closing the door to Morty’s room, yet careful enough to make sure his wobbly steps wouldn’t cause too much noise going down the stairs and into the garage.

The chances that anyone in the house would bother following him in here were low, but he still locked the door behind him and kicked a switch set up next to the door, activating a security system to keep everyone the fuck out of his space. It was only really set up to hurt Jerry if that bastard bothered. If it was Beth or Summer Rick would be alerted immediately.

Rick was smart enough to take extra measures though, and placed a quietly snoring and drooling Morty on the cold floor while he opened up a panel to the lower half of his garage space. There were multiple uses for this bunker after all. One of which included sneaking off every once in awhile and secretly fucking his grandson.

Picking up Morty again, Rick lept through the opening in the floor and landed in such a practiced manner on the padded matting below. The hatch door above slammed shut, darkening the space around them only briefly before the lights kicked on, sensing Rick’s presence.

Rick didn’t need anything down here but the small room he had repurposed for his sickeningly increasing desires. He passed by caged animals, weaponry, alien devices and drugs. The only thing he stopped for was a full bottle of vodka, and stopping was debatable. Rick knew it was there before he even moved past it, and tossed Morty over his shoulder like a sack of dead weight just so he’d have a hand free to grab the bottle.

The room he required a quick retinal scan and then the doors were open, which was another set that closed tight after Rick was inside. This mini room had a lot of computers and junk in the corners that Rick hadn’t bothered to move out yet. The real important part was the set up in the back, a spreader bar attached to the wall that he locked Morty to, though not before setting the bottle of vodka down next to him. The bar would have Morty cuffed by his wrists and hold him up despite his limp body. His ass would sit on the floor, the bar keeping his head high enough up to make him suck grandpa’s dick.

In fact, Rick was on his knees briefly after setting Morty up, grabbing at a nearby ring gag. He’d pry open his grandson’s mouth and lodge the ring between his teeth to hold up his jaw, latching the gag’s straps around the back of his head.

Rick stared at Morty again a moment before stroking the kid’s cheek and drunkenly slurring at him as if he could hear, “S-sorry Morty, I know y-you, you don’t.. you, shit, you think grandpa wants this f-for you? I-I-I do this for you, baby. I knock you o-out so you d-don’t, you’ll never have.. You’ll never have to remember any of this, and we d-don’t have to lose what we had.”

Still rambling a bit, Rick stood, stumbling to the camera positioned a few feet in front of where Morty was now tied up. There was quite a few cameras around the room than this one, around the ceilings, gathering different angles. This one was more like a central control system for the room, and with a few button presses, the cameras were recording.  
“I w-won’t have to lose you, if you just, i-if you just let this k-k-keep happening.” 

And then his pants were on the ground, coat and shirt following quickly after. Hand already stroking his own dick before he was even in front of Mort again.  
If there was one thing about that ring gag, it was the fact Rick could watch all of that drool dribble out of his mouth and collect around his chin. And well, maybe the fact that unconscious Morty seemed to just let his tongue loll out of his mouth, as if it were inviting Rick in. It reminded him of that escort Morty and when he fucked his mouth. 

“I-if only you were.. awake and, fuck, Morty, if y-you were conscious for this, y-you’d, I know you’d like it if you just..” Rick spoke to a body with no answer for him, placing his feet on either side of Morty’s sprawled legs and sliding his dick through the ring in the gag, right into his Morty’s wet mouth. “..gave it a chance, fuck,” he practically moaned the rest of his cobbled together sentence, quickly giving in to the pleasure of rubbing the head of his cock against the soft tongue.

Rick found his fingers tangling in Morty’s hair, holding his head up and pulling his grandson’s face into the slow movements of his hips. Rick would have to be more mindful, knowing Morty’s body wouldn’t react the same way in this state if it started to suffocate.

“G-god I just want.. want to feel that tongue, y-your lips.. I n-need it, Morty, I need y-y-you,” he droned on, dick moving in deeper and deeper until Rick could feel the back of Morty’s throat squeezing around him. Morty couldn’t respond, couldn’t reciprocate or follow any sort of commands, he couldn’t even gag.  
That lack of any sort of response made Rick dare to see how far he could get his dick in, yanking on Morty’s hair and forcing him to take the full length into his mouth until Rick could feel the cold metal of the gag and the warm drool from Morty on his balls. 

Oh god, it was all the way in. Rick could feel Morty’s throat spasming as his body naturally tried to suck in air but couldn’t, not with something so large completely blocking the passage. It felt so fucking good, and Rick’s grip on Morty tightened the closer orgasm came to rushing through him.  
He didn’t want to pull out yet, but he didn’t want to cum either, not so quickly. 

Still, it was a good thing he dragged himself out with the colors Morty’s face was beginning to turn. They were both gasping, Rick from trying to keep himself from losing it and tipping over the edge, Morty from the lack of air. His little body naturally tried to make up for it, sucking in what it could only to start coughing when the excess spit was sucked into his lungs. He would be fine in a moment once his body figured out how to breath again, though it wouldn’t wake him up.  
Morty would be out until morning, no matter what Rick did to him. 

Next Rick would take the ring gag off again, letting Morty retain some of the liquid in his mouth at least, and give his jaw a break. In a way, Rick cared. He didn’t want Morty too damaged, though at the same time Rick wanted to be the person to take Morty apart piece by piece, emotionally and physically. It was complicated.

The gag was tossed to the floor and Rick found himself sloppily kissing Morty, pressing against unresponsive lips, soft cheeks, and then down his grandson’s neck. Rick always had a hard time not leaving hickies, sucking on the skin just above Morty’s collar bone. Without any noises from the kid, Rick couldn’t tell how hard he was biting, and left several teeth indents over Morty’s shoulders.  
Rick whispered ‘I love you, Morty’ and ‘you’re mine, you’re mine’ between the lovemarks he decorated his grandson’s body with. 

It was convenient for Rick that Morty always seemed to sleep in nothing but briefs. It was simple for him to take off the underwear, pulling it off Morty’s ass and dragging it down his legs until it slipped right off and was tossed aside with the rest of the clothes. Standing again, Rick unlocked the position of the spreader bar with the simple flip of a latch, allowing him to raise Morty up just a bit higher, the bar locking into place again.

This wasn’t specifically why Rick wanted to move Morty, but he still couldn’t help putting his hands on his grandson’s dick, fingers caressing the underside of his soft, young balls. They were a bit hairy, certainly, though compared to what Rick usually saw, they were so smooth and felt so satisfying to touch. Still untainted by the world until Rick had his hands on it.  
As he moved down, Rick dared to place a kiss on Morty’s stomach, then several down the short hairs that made up his happy trail until he met the head of his grandson’s still-soft cock with his lips. The kind of affection he could only _really_ show while Morty was out cold like this. 

Leaning away for the moment, Rick fumbled for the bottle of vodka he had set down and cracked it open. There was no way he could ever feel drunk enough for all of this, but he stilled tried, the bottle tipping end up as the man chugged as much as he could. He only stopped when he couldn’t stand any more of the taste in his throat and coughed up some of it, slamming the bottle back down.

The tingling numbness of alcohol carved out those nagging feelings of guilt tugging at the back of his mind and replaced it with an intense need to fuck the hell out of Morty.

Rick’s staggered and unbalanced movements had him sliding himself between Morty and the wall he was cuffed to. Morty was high enough to sit in Rick’s lap, the weight of his grandson laying over his chest and shoulder, the wall helping keep the old man from falling over.

In one hand, Rick was downing more vodka, the other was groping around for lube. Rick had tried previous nights to get his dick into Morty without any lube, to no real avail. As it turns out, Morty’s ass was too tight, and Rick found any attempts more uncomfortable than actually nice.  
Not that he minded the idea of working on stretching his grandson’s hole until it would accept grandpa’s dick like it were nothing. 

Vodka set aside, Rick wrapped his arm around Morty’s stomach so he could see where he was pouring the lube. While he was trying to get it into his fingers, some of it still messily dripped down onto Morty’s legs. Fingers would come first, to get Morty loose and wet, for now Rick’s dick would sit comfortably under Morty’s balls, pressing up into him a bit as he got hard just by sliding his hand under his grandson’s ass and rubbing his lubed fingers around the opening.

Rick would have to put down the lube just so he could hold up Morty’s ass just a bit for more access. His fingers easily slid inside, one at first, then the second one followed quickly after. Morty’s body didn’t really fight back, the muscles completely relaxed so Rick’s fingers could move in and out almost effortlessly, coating the hole until it was nice and slick.  
He’d curl his fingers as he stroked a couple more times, head laid against Morty’s arm, watching the kid’s dick twitch a bit in response to him massaging his prostate. Rick snorted to himself, it would be so easy to drain Morty this way, milk him until there was nothing left and Morty was painfully empty by morning. 

It would be easy.. but not what Rick wanted. Not right now.  
He slipped his fingers out and shifted just enough to keep Morty sitting on one leg while he set his own dick free and began stroking himself. It was probably too much lube that he was starting to squeeze out over the length as he stroked. Oh well, better safe than not fucking his grandson. 

When his strokes were making satisfying squelches, his dick coated in lubrication and stiff from excitement, Rick moved his hands to Morty’s hips and guided the kid’s ass over his dick. Rick’s hips pushed upwards as he lowered Morty onto him. It wouldn’t take a lot of pressure before the head slipped in, causing Rick to gasp. It was slippery and he really wished he could feel Morty tighten around him or hear him whine and scream, but it didn’t stop it from feeling good as his dick slid all the way inside of that asshole.

Rick had never been this deep inside of his own grandson before. Guilt rose in time with his deep lust and he could feel his own heartbeat in his crotch, ringing out against the walls that surrounded his cock. Rick cursed at himself to shut the fuck up, not wanting to hear what his conscience had to say.

He didn’t care, not while drunk. His teeth found their way onto Morty’s neck as he began pumping into him, and his tongue and lips left marks that Morty would have to try and hide later. If only he didn’t hide them with that ugly ass scarf. If only everyone knew that this was his Morty, that his Rick was fucking him in the ass and would leave marks that stained on the inside that no one else could replace but Rick. 

The restraints that held Morty to the wall clattered and strained as Rick slammed up into his grandson, sending his limp body bouncing by the force. Nails dug into Morty’s sides and left scratches down his pliable skin. Ricks breath picked up with his own steady rhythm, groaning into Morty’s ear with more whispers of “mine, mine, mine.”

Fucking Morty was like an assertion of ownership. Pulling him down onto the full length of his dick as his entire body shook with the force of his orgasm, filling Morty as deep as he could go with _Rick’s_ cum was like claiming Morty as his. Biting down on Morty’s shoulder until he drew blood as he came was like telling the world who Morty belonged to.

Rick moaned and sighed through the orgasm, reveling in the pleasure of how fucking good it felt. How good _Morty_ made him feel. How disgustingly amazing it felt to take advantage of his unconscious body and pull out just to leave his cum inside. Eventually it would dry and cake the walls of his grandson’s ass, and Morty might feel uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t really _know_ or _remember_ what happened to him. But Rick would know.

Exhausted, Rick looked himself over, then Morty. He probably shouldn’t have done this.  
He told himself that every night at this point, it didn’t stop him from doing it again the next time. But Morty was starting to catch on to just what was happening to him every night. If Rick had bothered to be more careful, maybe he could get away with it longer. 

It was only a matter of time before Morty did or said something about what was happening. At least, that’s what Rick thought about every day. Half of him was convinced he had to do something about this, the other half convinced there was nothing to worry about.

As he cleaned himself off next to Morty with a few tissues, Rick had the alcohol again, sucking down every drop he could force down. He’d dab up the excess lube around his legs and clean off his dick, his mind elsewhere as he cleaned up Morty as well.  
He’d let his grandson’s wrists free, his body dropping to the floor with a hard thud. Unconcerned with this, Rick was too busy going through the motions, moving to the cameras’ controls and shutting them off. 

He’d have another look over the room, wondering why he did this, as he always did when he was done with Morty.  
This time, however, he walked back over to Morty and pulled the kid into his arms. Sitting against the wall again, this time with Morty lying heavily on his chest, Rick slowly stroked his grandson’s hair. 

Rick had to carefully go over his options from here on. What now?


	4. The Fourth Mistake Might Be Your Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick drinks and drinks until he's decided to do something especially stupid.   
> Morty has caught on to Rick's actions and contemplates whether to fight back while he discovers a his own method of coping with the overwhelming anxiety of knowing everything he never wanted to know about his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some things I've added into this were at the suggestion of some comments I've gotten! thanks as always for your input, guys! I love knowing where you want to see things go

Awake.  
But where?  
Where was he?

Morty couldn’t quite get his thoughts together, everything was hazy. His eyes would barely open no matter how he tried, so drowsy and weighed down. It felt as though something was on top of him, holding him down, pinning him like a heavy weight was laid over his entire body. Morty slowly realized it was difficult to breath and he gasped and coughed, attempting to desperately suck in air only to realize his throat was completely dry.

How long had he been out? Half of his body felt numb, he couldn’t move his limbs. Everything was sore, his head hurt so much he couldn’t think. There was the feeling of warm breath rolling over his face at a steady rhythm that matched this strange throbbing in his lower half. Someone was definitely above him, shifting, moving, and they smelled thickly of alcohol.

Morty was still trying to put the pieces together through the fog in his mind when a drop of liquid seemed to hit his cheek. He realized it didn’t feel like this had been the first substance on his face, his skin feeling crusty and uncomfortable the more he focused on it. He couldn’t figure out what it was, and tried to open his eyes again to see what was happening.

It worked, even if only a little bit. His eyes felt crusted shut, the liquid that dropped on his eyelids his only assistance in clearing up and prying his own eyes open. His vision was blurry and clouded, unable to focus on the figure above him.  
It was.. drool. He finally figured it out. Drool was falling down on him.  
Morty frowned deeply at this, scrunching his face in displeasure.

He almost thought he was hallucinating at first, because it seemed like his grandpa was over him, like it was his hands around his wrists digging into the skin and aggravating what felt like bruises down his arms. That couldn’t be right. Rick would never..   
Rick would never.. hurt him.

But Morty’s senses were slowly starting to come to him, and he could hear his grandpa groaning with each movement he made.  
“Morty.. M-morty..” was softly elicited from Rick’s mouth. But this wasn’t sounds of concern, or worry. Rick wasn’t trying to get Morty’s attention, he was moaning to himself. The sort of noises that indicated pleasure and desire, with a hint of intoxicated delirium.

Morty stiffened in realization. Memories came back to him like blips of a dream. He remembered Rick touching him in bed, Rick leaving marks on him for weeks and weeks, Rick’s arms around him, hands violating him in ways he’d never been touched before, pain and anxiety and discomfort with no end and no way to fight back. He remembered finding out Rick was drugging him, the phantom pain of a needle in his neck and injecting him with who knows what.

This was another blip of brief consciousness, wasn’t it? Morty desperately tried to hold onto it, hoping he would remember later, expecting may he would fall asleep again.  
Of course, that was the fear talking, and the still heavy feeling in his body. He could tell he was drugged, which was why it was so difficult to move or feel anything, but Morty was most certainly conscious.  
Rick was touching him, he was aware of that, but still trying to piece together just how.

The floor below him was cold, certainly not the sort of place someone would sleep willingly. It likely contributed to the soreness in his body, though Morty knew it wasn’t the only reason. He wasn’t in his own bed, but couldn’t quite sort out just where he was. Bright lights shown down overhead, shadowing Rick just ever so slightly even as Morty’s vision started to focus and settle.

As feeling returned to his lower half, pain began to shoot up his spine. Morty could feel something being shoved inside of his rear end, something far too large and painful. His asshole felt a mix between soaked, filthy, itchy, and chafed. The chafing caused stinging pain as the object slid deep inside, so deep Morty felt like he had to be splitting apart.

Morty could feel Rick’s bare skin against his own, his legs spread and perched up on his grandpa’s shoulders. Scraggly, wiry pubic hair rubbing uncomfortably against his thighs and pressing down onto his genitals. His own body was moving with Rick’s, hips slamming downwards in time with the searing pain taking over Morty’s body.

Rick was fucking him. This was certainly clear.  
His grandpa’s dick was inside of him, and Morty was never even really sure he _wanted_ to be fucked in the ass by anyone, let alone his _grandpa_. The thought was mortifying, Morty frantically wanted him _out out out_.  
He didn’t know whether to just stay quiet and ride it out again, or do something, say something.

Morty wanted nothing but for this to end, all of this. There were tears forming in his eyes at the intensity of the pain, mentally and physically. Rick was fucking him senselessly. Rick didn’t care about him at all, or how much it hurt. Rick _knew_ it hurt. No wonder the asshole had to knock his grandson out just to fuck him.  
Morty almost wished he was unconscious again, he’d almost rather that than to sit here and take the full, agonizing length of Rick’s cock.

It was so hard not to scream, especially as Rick’s pace picked up. Morty could tell Rick was pulling out all the way to the head just to slide right back in all the way to the base, their skin meeting and fitting together as Rick’s dick forced itself as deep as possible inside of Morty. Every inch of it was excruciating, Morty’s brain turning right back into white static as pain overwhelmed his sense. His body tightened and squeezed   
He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop, as Rick pounded into him at full force, Morty shrieked, he cried, he started begging with absolute desperation, “Rick, Rick, Rick! Stop, please, s-s-stop, R-r-rick please!”

Tears were streaming down Morty’s face, and Rick, so enraptured, drunk, and caught up in his own fantasies, wasn’t even fazed by Morty’s sudden screaming. Morty pleaded over and over again, and Rick quite literally got off to his grandson’s pain and sobbing. Rick stopped, certainly, but only because his body jerked and came inside of Morty with such force he almost collapsed right then and there. His legs shook, wobbling as wave after wave of pleasure struck him with each ‘please’ Morty uttered.

“Rick.. R-rick, s-stop, p-p-please,” Morty weakly tried to pull away, still pinned by Rick. His voice was raspy from obvious dehydration, mouth still dry since the moment he woke up. He didn’t really understand what was happening, only that his grandfather’s dick was still inside of him even as Rick laid over Morty and panted.

Rick had coated Morty’s insides over and over again at this point with his own spunk, but this time was so ridiculous intense. There was cum leaking from Morty’s ass and pooling below them both. He always knew he’d love to hear his Morty beg him to stop. It was hot, disgustingly hot. His dick was still hard even after that orgasm, and he briefly considered continuing fucking Morty anyway even as he was sitting here awake.

But some part of him fought it. Even through his drunken stupor, he couldn’t be that awful. Not yet.  
“S-s-sorry Mort,” Rick slurred so hard Morty almost couldn’t understand what he was saying, “Y-you, you know, you’re not even.. you weren’t supposed t-to wake up yet. Grandpa’s, he’s not, he’s got plans for y-you still, Morty. He’s got plans, and w-we’re just gonna put ya right back to sleep, don’t you even, d-d-don’t even sweat it, dawg.”

Rick really didn’t care. Not at all. And Morty almost didn’t either. Morty almost resolved to just let Rick knock him out and give in. Anything to make this full, painful feeling stop.  
But as Rick groped around for something, dragging that injector device across the floor, Morty realized his hands were free. The kid blinked away his tears and lifted his head to get a better look at what Rick was doing. He watched as Rick refilled the device without even barely moving. He also watched Rick drop the device to the floor a couple of times.

Just how drunk was he? This was.. pretty bad.  
Morty knew this was a good time to take advantage of the situation. The third time Rick dropped the device, Morty used every ounce of energy in his body to lunge forward and grab the device from under him and point it right at Rick’s chest. He finger twitched on the trigger, trying not to press it just yet.

Rick’s response was slow, processing just what happened and realizing Morty had the injector loaded and right against his skin. “M-m-morty what the fuck! P-put, put that down, come on!” Rick put his hands up in surrender, spitting as he spoke.

Morty shook off and ignored the drops of saliva that hit his face, already knowing how gross and disgusting his skin felt. Shakily, he demanded, still crying, “Rick, g-g-get the hell out of me, get out of me right now!”

“Alright, alright!” Rick hissed, but shifted his hips and slowly pulled his dick of out Morty. It came out with a _schlop_ , excess lube, cum, and even a bit of blood coming out with it. “L-look, this isn’t.. this isn’t how I wanted y-you to find out, to.. to know that.. t-to know what I’ve been doing to y-you, Morty. I n-never wanted this for you. I never wanted to, hurt you.”

“W-w-well, it’s a little late for that, Rick! I already knew! A-and, I’ve, I am, in so much pain. W-why would you do this to me? To your grandson? I w-wanted to lose my virginity to, to someone like, like Jessica! N-not you!” Morty flailed his floppy limbs, trying to get to his knees and nearly falling over as he choked out his words, “W-why can’t things be normal, Rick? W-w-why?!”

Rick didn’t move, he let Morty have control of the situation. Despite how drunk he knew he was, he could feel himself sobering as Morty rambled on. “I don’t know. B-b-because I’m a disgusting piece of shit, is that, are those the words you want to hear, Morty? Y-you want to hear about how your grandpa’s a nasty ass pedophile w-w-who can’t even stop, n-no matter how hard he fucking tries?” Rick sharply inhaled. He stared Morty directly in the eyes, though his mind couldn’t really focus on him as he spoke, “M-maybe I don’t want to stop. Maybe I hate myself. Maybe it’s because I love you and I know you can never love me back.”

“You’re.. you’re right about one thing,” Morty sniffled, “I don’t love you, a-and I never will.” He shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Rick’s eyes widened, caused by a mixture of pain from the needle sliding into his skin, and the words that stabbed him deeper than he’d ever realize they possibly could.   
Morty didn’t love him. He knew that, but it was still painful to hear. His heart felt cold, and then the sedation of the serum took over, calming him. It lulled Rick into an unconscious state, and he fell over, asleep.

Morty’s hands and entire limbs were shaking. He dropped the device almost instantly as Rick fell, and for a while, numb, just stared at Rick’s comatose body.  
He was too scared to really look at his own body, not actually sure of what all was covering him. He thought about all of the showers he would need.

And then he thought of the repercussions this could potentially cause. Rick would wake up eventually and get back at him. Punish him somehow. He just knew it. Morty’s breath began to shake with the rest of him, and he was crying again. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

Morty considered the thought of killing Rick, prevent anything worse from happening, make this all stop. But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill Rick. No matter how much he hated Rick right now, some part was still attached to him, and he knew eventually his mother would question where Rick was.

No, he couldn’t kill him.

Morty looked around the room. It didn’t take him long to process that this was one of the rooms down in the bunker below the garage. He’d been down here enough times to just.. know. It was familiar. There was a pile of empty bottles of alcohol, though they weren’t the only empty bottles around the room. There was sex toys, or at least, things that Morty thought seemed like the usual sex toys Rick had. Strange contraptions on the walls and restraints that Morty didn’t quite understand or recognize. And.. in the middle of the room, a camera? A red light flashed on it, indicating it was recording.

Morty crawled towards it, slowly. His arms were sore and weak, struggling to pull him forward. His legs were shaky and refused to work with him, not moving how Morty needed them to move. He fell down over and over again, collapsing weakly on the floor. Exhausted, he’d gave up at some point and just laid with his face on the floor. His tears had started to dry up and that familiar numbness that came whenever he thought about Rick touching him was fogging up his brain again.

It made him want to quit, and just lay on the floor until Rick woke up again. But he couldn’t, Morty had to keep moving. He had to stop this somehow. Morty was convinced this camera could be his savior, if he could just get up.

Gaining some strength back and renewed motivation, Morty lifted himself on trembling limbs, slowly making his way up the camera’s tripod stand. He used it to brace himself, looking over the complex controls displayed before him. This wasn’t any sort of normal camera, but that wasn’t surprising if it was Rick’s. It became clear that this miniature control panel attached to the camera controlled various sets of cameras around the room and Morty was appalled.

Rick had been recording him, possibly multiple times, like this was a sex tape to him. Morty felt sick, skeeved out at the idea of his traumatizing experiences being treated like a movie, like jack off material to his grandpa. It was terrifying.

Morty was looking for something specific, scanning over the various operations until he found one pertaining to memory. Heart pounding, he ejected what seemed like a flash drive and grasped it in his hand. When removed, the cameras in the room beeped and shut off, their red lights going dark. This allowed Morty some sigh of relief.

This.. this was evidence.  
He wasn’t sure what to do with it yet, but he had it, he had _something_ over Rick, and that mattered most right now.

Morty, feeling a little steadier, found his boxers strewn across some of Rick’s clothes and sat down so he could put them back on. He hadn’t realized how cold he was, especially until he had opted to take his grandpa’s shirt as well and it covered his body. It was nice to feel less exposed, though he nervously rubbed his wrists where the bruises were, prominent and very visible.  
Just in case, Morty took Rick’s labcoat as well. It was heavy and oversized, but it covered his wrists and made him feel less naked. He wished it didn’t smell so much like Rick, but Morty had no other clothes to his name down here.

Rick, still unconscious on the floor, made no effort to stop Morty as he escaped from the room and climbed the ladder back up into the garage. His tired limbs almost refused to make the journey, but fear drove him to escape as quickly as he could and when he reached the surface, he collapsed again on the garage floor. Relief brought more tears.

It was a lot longer than Morty would have liked before he finally made it through the garage door and crawled up the stairs to his room. It seemed to be night time, it was dark in the house and Morty could hear the snores of his family. He tried to stay quiet, dragging himself across the floor until he was in his room.

He finally stood, closing his door and locking it shut. That wouldn’t keep Rick out if he really wanted to chase after Morty, and that was the scariest part. Even if Morty had this evidence in his hand, even if he gave it to someone, what could they do? No one could stop Rick, not the police, not his parents, not even he could. What Morty did was only temporary, Rick would be right back on his feet.  
Morty was helpless.

The lab coat was tossed aside, falling to the floor next to Morty’s bed with a thunk. Morty fixated on sliding into his desk chair and booting up his computer. The monitor’s light made his eyes squint, and he rubbed at them, a mixture of dried up flakes of cum and tears falling off onto his arm and the floor.

He still didn’t feel completely within his own body, still not really with it. Maybe whatever Rick used on him didn’t wear off yet, or maybe he was still blocking out the pain of everything that had happened. It was almost a familiar friend at this point, that feeling of numbness.

When the computer welcomed him and he typed in his password, Morty slid the flash drive into a USB slot. As he told the computer to open up whatever folders were on this thing, his eyes slide down to the time and day stated neatly in the corner of the screen.  
3:44 am, Thursday.  
 _Thursday_.  
Was he seeing that right?

Morty shook his head, blinked a few times, and stared at it again. The only thing that changed was the movement of time, another minute passing.

It was Thursday alright.  
Morty’s whole body shook. He was pretty _damn_ certain last he remembered, it was Monday. Monday night when he laid in bed terrified until Rick came in and knocked him out. How could it be Thursday now?  
Unless.. Rick had kept him down there for couple days straight, keeping him unconscious, drinking and drinking and doing whatever he wanted until Morty had woke up. Maybe he had been too sloshed, hadn’t realized how long it had been. Morty realized how lucky he was that Rick made a _mistake_. He could have been stuck down there for a long time, for as long as Rick deemed he _had_ to have his grandson.

Morty was trembling as he clicked through the folders on the screen. He wasn’t so sure if he really wanted to see just what it was Rick did to him every night. He clicked through folders of alien pornography, selfies, other Ricks, photos that were clearly of Rick fucking someone, and.. the folder that held the videos of his grandpa fucking him. There were other folders in here as well, which Morty idly clicked through.

He struggled to properly process just what he was seeing. Folder after folder of.. pictures of him? Morty at school, Morty asleep in bed, Morty with Rick’s hands on him and his dick out over Morty’s face. This was almost too much for the kid, he was reeling. Rick was stalking him, and he wasn’t even sure for how long. Rick was stalking _other_ Mortys, that became clear when it was obvious that some of these Mortys couldn’t possibly be him. Morty thought he might throw up at this rate, but he held it down.

There was another folder that seemed like photos Rick didn’t take. The quality was higher, and the Mortys were posing as if they were in front of the camera just for the sake of pornography. The thought that anyone would take these, or sell these at all was disturbing to Morty. The thought that other _Mortys_ would pose like this for any Rick was horrifying.

Morty wasn’t sure he could look at any of this anymore. He certainly wasn’t going to watch the videos that included himself, not if he couldn’t even emotionally handle the photos. He would cry, but he wasn’t sure he even could anymore at this point.

He yanked the flash drive from his computer, stuck between the idea of destroying it and going to his parents about it. Then he thought for a moment. Morty wondered if his parents even noticed his absence the days he was gone. He didn’t even really have to ask, he knew they didn’t. They never did.  
Would they even care if he showed this to them?

Jerry would blame him for sure, Morty was convinced of this. It was Morty’s own fault Rick did this to him, maybe if he hadn’t gone on so many adventures with Rick _alone_ maybe he wouldn’t have gotten touched. His mom would find some way to defend Rick and take his side over Morty’s, it never really mattered what Rick did. Rick was always the right one and Morty was always the wrong one.

Morty threw the flash drive into one of his desk drawers and shoved it closed.  
Wait.  
He opened it again, noting something else the drawer held. He pulled out a complex multitool that Rick had gifted to him a long while back.

Sitting back in his desk chair, he slowly flipped through the different components, finding the click on pulling one of the tools out and putting it back satisfying to his brain in his current state of mind. A screwdriver, a bottle opener, a nail filer, a can opener, tweezers.. a blade.

Morty stared at this particular component for a few minutes, running his fingers over the unused edge. It was essentially brand new, having never used it before, so it was definitely very sharp. This was especially clear when Morty pressed his finger into the blade and drew a bit of blood. He stared intently as the droplet ran down the knife.

That almost felt.. nice. Satisfying.  
It was painful, just a little, but broke the suffocating numbness for even a brief moment, distracted him from the rest of the pain bearing down on his back.

His eyes traveled down to the bruises on his wrist, and suddenly, Morty came to a realization. He understood finally why other people would hurt themselves, and pressed the blade to his skin.

 

* * *

 

Rick woke up to the sound of obnoxious beeping, shooting up with his hand on his head, groaning. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the hangover, the soreness wracking his entire body, or the migraine that alarm was causing.

A set of monitors had come down from the ceiling, alerting Rick that someone had gone through the garage door. The door was shut now, as one monitor showed, though another one had a still screen of Morty rushing through the door in his labcoat.

“Shut the damn alarm off!” Rick yowled in complaint, to which his computer system complied and quieted itself. The old man ran his palm down his face, rubbing at his eyes as if that would rid him of the nausea and pain.

It didn’t take him long to piece everything together, remembering Morty knocking him out with his own device and apparently stealing his clothes before leaving. Rick was a damn idiot, Morty was completely aware now of what he was doing.  
Even if the kid probably already knew, something about Morty waking up in the middle of it had Rick feeling aware and guilty of his own stupid actions.

“Dammit,” Rick sighed out, shoving his legs into his pants and buckling his belt. He knew he’d have to face this. Rick had to have been out for hours at this point, who knows what Morty could have done.. by.. now.  
As Rick passed it, he realized something was missing from the camera, noticing the record light was off. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

The little _shit_. He had the god damn flash drive!

Rick was sweating as he quickly walked out of the room. He wouldn’t admit to panicking. Not yet. It depended on just what Morty planned on doing with all of grandpa’s porn.  
He really hoped Morty didn’t look through what he had on there. Rick felt ashamed of himself at the thought.

First of all, he gathered up a few items, pouring some liquids into a vial before shaking it up and sucking it down. Drool ran down his face, and he wiped it away onto his arm. At least that would take care of the hangover, god he couldn’t deal with this if he had to go through it with a hangover.

Then he was headed up to the garage, shutting off the alarm system before heading through the door into the household. Everything seemed oddly silent, save for the TV in the living room indicating Jerry was home and doing nothing as per his usual schedule. No cops, no Beth here to confront him. Either Morty showed them and no one cared, or Morty hadn’t shown anyone yet.  
Rick was a bit relieved as he moved up the stairs towards Morty’s room.

When he got to the door and attempted to open it, the handle didn’t budge.  
Locked.  
That was, unusual. Was Morty _scared_ of him? Rick could feel his own heart breaking and he held a hand to his bare chest.

Insistent on getting in, Rick moved a few steps over and pushed on a hidden panel in the wall, flipping the whole thing around with Rick included, moving him from the hall to the inside of Morty’s room. Without skipping a beat he was moving to the bed where Morty still laid. The kid hadn’t gone to school, he had just stayed home and slept.

‘Where’s the drive, where’s the drive?’ something nagged at him from the back of his head, but his first concern was Morty. Looking at him now, far more sober, Rick could see how disheveled and filthy Morty was, or at least what wasn’t covered by the sheets. He had done that to him, Rick knew how many times he had cum on Morty’s face without bothering to wash him up. Why did he do that? Why did he do this?  
He wasn’t entirely sure.

Rick reached out a hand towards the sleeping kid, pausing when his eyes caught a few stains on the blanket and sheets next to Morty. That was blood. Rick’s heart started revving up in actual panic now, and he yanked the blanket from off of Morty. The kid whined quietly in response and Rick had to wonder if he was just pretending to sleep again.

With the sheets moved, Rick could see what Morty had done to himself, dried up blood covering a good portion of his arm. No, Morty hadn’t done this to himself, Rick had drove him to this. To resorting to harming himself. And the kid hadn’t even turned his grandpa in for all he’d done.  
Rick’s entire body felt stiff, he struggled to move from where he was, watching Morty shiver and tremble. He was alive at least. He wouldn’t have to worry about that. But seeing Morty terrified of Rick like this was gut wrenching.

Rick had ruined Morty’s life, mental state, and any chance of them ever having a fun adventure together again. Clenching his fist, Rick turned on his heels and headed back out of the room the way he came, moving the wall so it faced the correct direction again as he left.

He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t keep doing this to his Morty. He had to leave, find another reality, anything but stay here.


End file.
